


Down

by micehell



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Rough Sex, not completely consensual situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-06
Updated: 2005-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had worked before... back on Earth... when things got too bad. Spoilers up to 'Runner'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down

  


"If you're here to tell me I scream like a little girl, or run like one, save yourself the effort. Someone's already beaten you to it. Several someones, actually. It wasn't even mildly amusing the first time, and the fifty subsequent iterations have seriously made it pall."

But the colonel wasn't wearing his 'let's have a good time at Rodney's expense' face. He was wearing his stoic 'this isn't what I signed up for, but I'll make the sacrifice' face. Not the one he usually wore when he came by Rodney's quarters.

Not that he came by all that often, much to Rodney's chagrin.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"Mind? No. Wonder why? Yes."

But Sheppard was just shaking his head and smiling, and it wasn't as if Rodney had ever had any good defenses against that smile. With the way his nerves were still shaking after his day of fun, soaking up deadly radiation, playing with a madman, and having to shoot a friend, he was helpless before it.

And he wished like hell that it meant something other than Sheppard being his usual genial, if sarcastic, self. But that was just a dream he had sometimes, and this was his life, and he was well used to the fact that the two didn't usually meet.

He flopped onto his couch, silently pointing to the other end, too tired to bother with even a veneer of social graces. "Well, if you don't want to tell me why you're here, what do you want to do?"

Sheppard sat on the couch, but much closer than Rodney expected. The man really did need to learn what personal space was.

He was smiling when he said, "Wouldn't my telling you what I want to do be the same as my telling you why I'm here?"

"Hn. You're right. Oh, well, had to happen sometime. So why are you here, Colonel?"

But Sheppard wasn't answering. Instead he was off the couch, kneeling between Rodney's knees, hands playing out across the front of his pants.

And Rodney's brain had just about seized up, but he managed to hold onto enough thought to put his own hands on top of Sheppard's, bringing them to a halt. "Not that I don't appreciate finding myself in the middle of a Penthouse letter... I mean, hell yes, I appreciate that, but why?"

Looking up at him through his lashes, Sheppard just smirked. "You really can't figure this out, or has it been so long that you've forgotten?"

Rodney sighed. "I recognize what you're doing, Major-"

"Colonel."

And if Rodney kept sighing like this, he was going to hyperventilate, and he didn't need the help, considering the sight of Sheppard on his knees in front of him was making it hard enough to breathe. "Colonel, then. It's why you're doing it that I'm wondering about. Why now?" Why me, though Rodney kept that part to himself.

And the incubus... or would that be male succubus, considering that Rodney wasn't a woman... forget it, the sexual demon in front of him disappeared, leaving behind only a tired man, with that damned stoic look back on his face.

"Because now's when I need it, McKay. I just want a little connection, and I know-"

He'd cut himself off before he finished the thought, but Rodney could figure out what followed. He knew that Rodney wanted him. He knew because Rodney had gotten careless. Had let his feelings show after finding Sheppard miraculously returned from the dead. Just for a moment, mind you, but then Sheppard had always been too damn perceptive for Rodney's comfort.

"So you're just looking for comfort? A little buddy sex?"

His lips quirking in a strange grin, Sheppard peered at him intently. "I'm looking for you to fuck me. If you don't want to...."

Rodney wanted to turn him down. There were too many ways that this could be a bad thing, not the least of which is that Rodney was pretty sure that it would hurt like hell to come so close to having what he wanted, and yet to not really have it at all.

But then Sheppard's mouth was only inches away from Rodney's cock, which was stealing most of his blood volume right now, and Rodney knew he couldn't turn what could be his only opportunity down either.

And he could really use the comfort, too.

Not even bothering with an answer, he pulled Sheppard up towards him, hands cupping that face, and he was putting everything he had into the kiss. It was soft, warm, passionate.

But then Sheppard took control, and the kiss mutated; hard, hungry, and Rodney tasted blood as his teeth hit caught against the lips that seemed to be trying to devour him.

When they broke apart, both of them were panting for air, and a feral grin was on Sheppard's face. Then he was diving back in, licking a path down Rodney's face, his neck, pushing his shirt up to get at his chest.

Rodney was still reeling from the assault when he felt his pants being opened, his cock hardening further as it was hit first by cool air, then by hot mouth.

And it was going to be over too quickly, and Rodney couldn't bear for it to end, so he pulled Sheppard away, ignoring his disappointed groan, and squeezed tight at the base of his cock, trying to stave off the imminent orgasm.

It was backing off, he could feel his control returning, but then he saw Sheppard once again before him, still on his knees, face flushed, lips swollen, and it was beyond Rodney's control to keep from coming.

That should have been it. Game over, next player please. But Sheppard had his mouth back on Rodney's cock, sucking, licking, petting, and it was too good, and it hurt like hell, but his cock was staying hard, and he could feel desire slowly starting to overtake the pain of overtaxed flesh.

Rodney's whole body felt charged, every nerve thrumming right on the edge of his skin. He felt great, he felt like God, he felt like they should take this to the bed, where he'd do his best to prove that he could give as good as he got.

But Sheppard wasn't waiting, and he was on the couch, kneeling over Rodney, clothing AWOL, and Rodney couldn't for the life of him remember when that had happened, but he couldn't be bothered to, not when Sheppard was holding onto Rodney's cock, positioning himself, pushing, down, down, and he was so fucking tight it hurt.

And Rodney was pretty sure that if it was hurting him, it had to be hurting Sheppard more. He knew he'd missed the striptease, but he didn't think he could have missed the sight of Sheppard preparing himself for penetration, and there hadn't been enough time for that, anyway.

Every instinct that he possessed, or every one that was making itself known at the time, was urging him to thrust, thrust hard, and to keep it up until he was spent, but he couldn't feel any trace of lube, either, and while he appreciated the idea that Sheppard was so eager for him that he couldn't wait, he didn't get off on pain; his or anyone else's.

"Maj- um, I mean Colonel,... and why am I calling you by your rank right now... focus, I can focus... John, I have lube. I have a bed. I know how to use both." He pulled at John's hips, trying to bring him back up.

But John didn't stop, pushing, down, down, face screwed up tight with determination., with some unnamed emotion that Rodney could see wasn't pleasure.

Rodney pulled at his waist again, putting more force in it this time, but John grabbed his hands, held them against the back of the couch, hips pistoning, down, down, and he was moving faster now, smoother, and Rodney's horror over what was easing the way was almost enough to keep the orgasm from slamming through him.

John tried to keep going, but there was no trick on Earth, or Atlantis for that matter, that was keeping Rodney hard now, and the movement slowed, stopped. Eyes in shadow, with shadows, stared at him, unblinking, until Rodney shut his own in sympathy.

His voice was broken when he finally asked, "Did you get what you wanted?"

And John was off his lap like he'd been burned, grabbing clothes, back to Rodney, literally and figuratively.

Looking at his cock, seeing the thin red swirls among the film of white, he resisted the urge to scream, to shout. To cry. "The least you owe me,... Colonel,... is an explanation."

Rodney thought for a moment that John was truly going to leave without saying anything, but then a whispered, "I'm sorry," came floating back to him.

Rodney nodded, fully in agreement. "It's a start."

Still not facing him, John sighed, sounding weary beyond words. "I just needed...."

"You needed... what? To have someone hurt you? And you didn't think to ask if I was Ok with that plan? Or did it really not matter what I thought, as you weren't going to give me a choice anyway?"

Maybe it was the accusation of rape, maybe it was the pain in his voice, but John finally turned to face him, slowly, inertia almost winning until the end. "Didn't mean it that way, Rodney. Really I didn't. I just needed... see, it's worked before... back on Earth, when... when things got too bad...."

And there were so many things that could be considered 'too bad' in their lives, but Rodney knew which one was haunting him at the moment, and he could extrapolate from there. "Ford."

All the pain in the world showed in a face that for once wore not a single mask. "He's just a kid, Rodney. And he got hurt in the line of duty. But none of that matters anymore. 'Cause now he's a liability... and I'm a fuck up for not killing him. For not killing a kid who was my responsibility."

And Rodney wasn't exactly a genius when it came to understanding his fellow humans, but he had more than a fair understanding of pain. "Catch-22."

And John's humor, his smile, tried to rally. "Not a major anymore."

But the deflection made Rodney angry, his default state against pain. "I still don't know why you thought that I'd be Ok with hurting you. Did you think that I was so shallow that I'd want sex regardless of how I got it?"

"Sorry. I didn't think it through. Didn't think. It's just that I like you, Rodney. I... trust you."

Rodney could feel his anger trying to dissipate on that admission, but he wouldn't let it, holding it tight against the weakness in his heart. He shook his head, not trusting his voice.

And John nodded, sighing. "Fucked it up, huh? I'm good at that." He turned back towards the door, opening it, the change in light making the shadows on his face grow longer. "Don't worry, I'll stay away from you."

The anger couldn't stand against that, no matter how much Rodney might miss its shielding. "Colonel,... John,...," and he hated when he lost his control like this, hated when the emotion was stronger than his intelligence, but sometimes - not often, mind you, but sometimes - there were some things more important than reason. "I can't hurt you enough to make you forget. I can't do that."

John was almost out the door, his "I know, I'm sorry," trailing after him.

"John?"

He stopped in the door, head cocked, waiting.

"But maybe I could make you feel good enough to forget."

John was a statue, marble silhouetted in the door. He wasn't coming back.

But he wasn't leaving, either.

And Rodney could work with that.

/story


End file.
